Twenty Four Months
by Darke-Faerie
Summary: Dazai does not take Oda's death well, the first year he lives life to the fullest... the second he gets the help he so desperately needs and Chuuya provides the support he needs. *Please* read the warnings inside, it does have a fluffy/happy ending though (after I uhh broke Dazai, and Kinda Chuuya)


**WARNINGS** – Drugs, vaguely implied prostitution, self-harm, suicide (attempts,) drinking, depression, implied character death's, vague stint in a rehab/treatment centre. If you aren't in a place to be comfortable reading any of these, then this fic isn't for you.

It does have a weirdly happy ending though (much to my surprise)

I know Dazai hates Ango, but I quite like the idea of him being a babysitter of sorts for Dazai during this period (& is about the only character I know of who would fit this role)

This is a version of what Dazai was doing during the 2 years underground, it was supposed to be a short paragraph of setting up a fic where Dazai works on his problems, based around the Serenity Prayer, but it uhh didn't happen (maybe for my next fic?)

Two years underground, he could do that. Twenty-four long months with only his thoughts to keep him company. Well, not quite the full twenty-four months, Chief Taneda had specified he had to attend a rehab facility before he could go into his new job. They had left it up to Dazai as to when he went, knowing it would work better if it was _his_ choice, he was given a contact number and within twenty-four hours someone would pick him up and take him to their chosen facility.

Dazai wasn't ready to give up his comfort blanket of drinks, drugs and knives, and he was sure he would only need to be at this _place_ a few days, a week at most. It's not like he has a _problem_, he was _perfectly_ normal. He argued that Mori would never have enabled his habit if it hadn't been _normal_.

Which is what he told Ango during his random check ins, the bloody bandages, needles and drugs in various forms littered around him really helping to sell just how _normal_ he was.

Free from the constraints of the Mafia (and with a fake ID or five) Dazai lived life to the fullest. His nights filled with drinks, drugs, men, women (who helped pay for the drinks and drugs when his hidden bank accounts were _mysteriously_ frozen), a certain redhead (or not, Dazai was never sure if it was a drug induced hallucination.) The days filled with crippling loneliness, a blade his only friend, dark thoughts amplified by the inevitable crashes as he never knew when Ango would visit and he needed to at least be a little coherent.

A week of bad trips culminating in Ango forcing liquid charcoal down his throat to make him throw up the cheap drugs he had bought, was enough to make him start easing off the drugs (replacing it with _more_ alcohol and run of the mill painkillers probably hadn't been his best idea.)

It had only taken six months for him to realise that Mori had been given him lower doses than what you could buy on the street, or just giving him the expectation of a fun night and letting his imagination believe the placebo would give him the escape he so desperately craved. Given the way Mori treated anyone else who dared turn up to work high Dazai should've known something wasn't right.

Minus his daily crashes Dazai started creating, writing and drawing fantastical worlds. He would later destroy them in a fit of despair, what survived Ango took for safe keeping when Dazai wasn't looking.

He continued to write Chuuya letters, hand delivering them to his apartment instead of handing them off to Ango.

He still didn't get a reply. (Maybe he should wrap his wrists better next time, but he'd never known his Chuuya to be scared off by a little blood)

The anniversary was coming up.

(And Dazai was fine.)

(Just…

…Fine.)

Ango came the day before. Dazai was bright and happy. Clean bandages, clean apartment, no sign of drugs or alcohol. He was even eating a real, home cooked meal, much to Ango's surprise. It was the most pleasant afternoon they had had in each other's company since Oda had died.

Chuuya found Dazai the next day.

Chuuya had felt _off_ all day, the life or death mission the day before had been a bit too close to death for his liking, he was lucky he healed so quickly. He found himself wandering the streets of Yokohama trying to get rid of some of the nervous energy. His feet took him to the graveyard the Mafia favoured, with the amount of death that being in the Mafia came with, Mori wanted to ensure his workers could have somewhere to grieve and remember their colleagues (especially those whose only family was the Mafia.)

Chuuya found himself wandering up the path to Oda's grave. He would never tell Dazai but he had found him there in the early hours more than once talking to Oda about mundane things as if he was still there. He would take Dazai home when he passed out from whatever he'd taken that night.

And that's where he found him.

Knelt in front of Oda's grave, tears falling, littered around him were torn bandages, several empty bottles of the strongest alcohol Dazai could find, and packets that once held cocaine, heroin, morphine, there were more but Chuuya's attention was pulled away when Dazai started talking. He was amazed Dazai was still coherent with that amount of drugs and alcohol in his system.

"I want to wander in darkness for eternity with you Oda, I'm not cut out to be on the side that saves people."

A bitter laugh, a small knife in his hand, Dazai made 5 small cuts on both forearms, Chuuya was confused, they were quite shallow and Dazai had missed the veins that would kill him.

"I can't even save myself. Oh look,"

Chuuya saw Dazai pull out a bright purple pill – _Mori's Killer_, given to all mafia members, it was a specially created drug similar to cyanide, a swift death if they were captured. Once swallowed it activated within 40 seconds (giving them 20 seconds to induce vomiting, a useful addition if the rescue squad appeared.) Chuuya was afraid to move, and break the trancelike atmosphere.

"It's time. Exactly a year has passed, I'll see you soon Oda." He slipped the pill into his mouth.

Chuuya snapped back to reality. Pushing Dazai into the bushes to the side of Oda's grave as he stuck a finger down his throat, forcing him to throw up. Hoping he had moved quickly enough.

"Chuuya…?" his voice hoarse, "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your ass, again" Chuuya's voice cracked with relief.

"No, no you aren't meant to be here with me, Oda is, but he's not here, he told me he would be" he sounded confused.

Chuuya paused, this was _real_ right? He had felt off all day, but he was _sure _he had _survived _yesterday's mission, and that this was the product of all the drugs Dazai had taken.

"You shouldn't have followed me, it's not your time."

Dazai sounded serious, _too _serious. He turned to Chuuya, a sombre look on his face. A monotone voice

"You're not meant to be dead yet Chuuya."

It took three weeks for Dazai to wake-up. Chuuya was starting to become convinced that he _had_ died and that this was his own personal Hell.

(It had to be Hell, he was adamant no Heaven of his would feature shitty Dazai)

He stayed at Dazai's bedside, watching as they pumped his stomach, cleaned his many, many cuts and generally tried to keep him alive.

"Chuuya?" a quiet voice.

"Dazai?" he pressed a button at the side of the bed to summon a nurse.

"Urgh either I'm in Hell or Mori gave me a dud."

"Neither, I stuck my finger down your throat and saved your ungrateful ass."

"Oh."

The nurse came in, checking Dazai over, they asked Chuuya to leave whilst a doctor came and talked to Dazai. When Chuuya returned Dazai was up on his feet.

"Looks like I'm going to that rehab centre earlier than I planned," he had the audacity to sound annoyed.

"Good."

"Good? I was doing _fine_ with my life Chuuya, I nearly had Oda back," he wiped tears from his eyes.

"Dazai, you weren't _fine, _look!" Chuuya pulled out his phone, opening his gallery, pulling up the first picture, "this was the first night I found you at Oda's grave, you were sharing a line with him, well that's what you told me." a swipe, "the first letter you sent me,"

"What's wrong with that? I thought you would like an explanation,"

"Not written in your own blood Dazai!" a few more swipes, each showing Dazai in a compromising position, "and my personal favourite, the pimp I had to stop recruiting you, as you made more money in 2 hours than he did in two weeks. I thought you'd stop with the drink and drugs if I froze your hidden accounts, but I forgot how resourceful you can be."

Silence.

Dazai crumpled to the floor, crying harder than Chuuya had ever seen. Chuuya sat on the floor next to him, awkwardly placing an arm around Dazai's shoulders.

"I didn't," sniff, "I didn't think I was that bad, it just felt… normal."

"Your childhood and teenage years sucked, and you've never had to deal with your emotions. No wonder you thought that lifestyle was normal Dazai."

"I don't understand why you kept an eye on me, even after I blew up your car,"

"I knew how much Oda meant to you, I knew it hit you hard," a pause, "because you're my partner, because I guess, I love you,"

"Love?"

"Yeah you may be an unfeeling jerk, but I did enjoy the time we spent together, and after the third pair of designer shoes you ruined, I knew there had to be something more that kept bringing me back to you."

"I don't deserve love." He started picking at the edges of a bandage (Once Chuuya knew they wouldn't interfere with any monitoring equipment, he had insisted on replacing the bandages, hoping they would comfort Dazai when he woke)

"Dazai, you're only 19, you, well, both of us deserve to live a happy life."

"How? I don't know how to cope without the numbness alcohol and drugs bring me. This is the first time since I was 13 that I've been clean, I can think clearly and I'm scared Chuuya."

"Did I ever tell you about what happened after we used corruption together that first time?"

"Other than the fact you disappeared for two weeks?"

"I was scared. Of the raw power, the blurry clarity that comes with it," a pause, "Ane-san found me in my room with a bottle of wine, smashed and bloody." He pulled his gloves off, showing scared palms, "I could feel again, I finally understood why you turned to a blade."

"Chuuya, all those times I pushed you to use corruption, why didn't you tell me?"

"Ane-san sent me to therapy, the therapist has a destructive ability to, and they really helped. Gave me a way to cope, to understand my thoughts were normal. I wasn't going to be scared of my own ability. I still see them monthly, it's the only reason I didn't leave the mafia with you, I need that grounding. I do slip up occasionally," he pulled his phone out again, "Ango found us one morning, I got so pissed at having to help you night, after night, you never got better no matter what I did to help you, I ended up unleashing corruption. Even when you were spacing out on drugs you saved me," he showed Dazai the picture, the curls of corruption slowly fading from Chuuya's skin as they cwtched, passed out together.

"Why are you telling me this Chuuya?"

"Go to therapy Dazai, go to this treatment centre the Chief requested. It will help you, and when you have a bad day, remember this picture, remember even God's slip up sometimes."

"Chuuya's a terrible God."

Eleven months passed.

Dazai went to the treatment centre as requested. The three weeks unconscious helped him with the worse of the come down from the drugs, granted he had to be very careful with painkillers, but his therapist had helped him create a plan that would help with his addictive tendencies. They reached a compromise with the alcohol, slowly dropping how frequently he turned to drink, instead of stopping it outright immediately. He would be on their outpatient programme for at least another year so they had time to work on it.

He still had bad days when he found comfort in a blade, the only thing that stopped him from pushing it to deep was remembering his terrible god, the one who was waiting for him, the one who _also _had bad days.

Dazai wrote Chuuya letters weekly, he was allowed to visit monthly after Dazai had been there for five months. He was having a bad day on Chuuya's first visit and refused to see him. Dazai was ignored, his therapist deemed Chuuya a good influence and let him see Dazai. Chuuya had brought a gift, a fancy notebook and pen set, and a paint set.

They spent the afternoon painting each other, it was a technique Chuuya's therapist had taught him long ago, painting the pain to be washed away instead of cutting it into the skin. It didn't work for him, but seeing the concentration on Dazai's face as he painted intricate patterns on Chuuya's arms, neck and face, before moving onto his own, made Chuuya glad he had thought to introduce the idea to Dazai.

Chuuya nearly ended up with a paint pot over him as he laughed too much at Dazai's attempts to paint his right arm with his left hand.

It was that normalisation of bad days that helped Dazai the most. That made Dazai pick up a pen or a paintbrush instead of a blade. He repainted most of the group rooms at the treatment centre, with intricate designs.

When Ango and Chief Taneda visited him at the end of the treatment they were surprised by the happier man who greeted them. Dazai burst into tears when Chief Taneda told him he was proud of who he had become, and that he would be a great asset to the detective agency. (He was assured that his new boss would be made aware of where he had been for the last year, his Mafia past would be his own choice to share.)

Twenty-Four months had finally passed.

Chuuya and Dazai were at Oda's grave again, hands linked. It was drizzling.

Dazai had been chattering along for twenty minutes, telling Oda how he had made it out the other side a better, happy, healthier man. Chuuya actually being right, that therapy _had_ helped. He was going to live with his chibi and he was going to be starting a job where he could live up to his promise to Oda, honour his memory the _right _way.

Dazai finished talking placing the flowers on Oda's grave.

"This probably isn't the right place to do this Chibi, but other than you Oda was the only other person to treat me like a teenager, and not just a scary Mafia executive. I love you Chuuya," Dazai reached into his pocket, "I know we are young, but I can't wait," he went down on one knee, opening the box, there were two rings inside, made out white, rose and yellow gold, plaited into a thin band.

"Marry me."

"I love you to" Chuuya pulled Dazai up into a kiss, "and Yes" he allowed Dazai to slip the ring onto his finger, before slipping the other onto Dazai's finger, "these are beautiful Dazai, although you were supposed to let me pick yours," he laughed.

"You can pick the wedding rings." He kissed Chuuya.

"Good, I want a lavish wedding so you're going to have to start saving,"

"Just as well I wanted a long engagement."

"Are you happy to go home now or do you want more time with Oda?"

"No, I think we've bothered him enough today"

The drizzle stopped and the sun peaked out from behind the clouds, Dazai smiled up at the sky, "I think that's Oda's way of saying he approves."

Chuuya pulled Dazai in for a cwtch, placing a light kiss on his lips,

"Good, don't ever forget I love you so, so much Dazai,"

"My chibi, my terrible God, I will love you forever."

Saying farewell to Oda, they left, making their way back to their apartment, and their happily ever after.


End file.
